Wasteland Watcher
by Elerick
Summary: Charon had lived through a lot, until the weird Vault kid showed up. Story of a boy who wishes to record all the beauty of the wasteland and his reluctant assistant in the search for knowledge. Mildly crack-ish and slash-ish.
1. Hired Help

Wasteland Watcher.

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*sighs* okay, this honestly goes against all my inner values, I swore I would never do an OC every again and yet… ah well.

I love LW Charon but my mind instantly blocks me from reading fics with women in it (comes from years of reading slash) so, since my player was male anyway (and totally hot thank you very much) I decided to make my own fic for my fellow slash lovers.

A little warning, this is going to be slightly random and one shot-ish for each chapter, which will all be based on different quests. Some will be funny, some will be dramatic, some will be… basic smut eventually, but to start I'm going to introduce everyone so don't let the initial dullness turn you off, let everything else XP

Ok, done talking, read.

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A ghoul's life was a long one to live. Some were driven into madness, burrowing down into the dark depths of the metro as their minds rotted away. Some stewed in their anger and let their guns do the talking, those few never lasted very long. Most just settled into a state of depressing existence in whatever whole they weren't going to get shot in. After two hundred years of living there wasn't much left to excite them.

Charon had lived as long as any ghoul in Underworld, so many years he'd lost count and a will to care. Even if his life had been rather different, not much that came through ever really surprised him. The ferocity of enemies never frightened him, the depths of each employer's selfishness never disappointed him, life was simply an annoying nuisance he had to deal with. Ahzrukhal was hardly a saint, but he was just a lizard among the devils he'd had to deal with. If anything this job was the dullest he'd had to deal with so far, he'd take being shot at over standing in a corner any day. With the lack of windows in underworld, his life just became one long, tedious day of kicking out drunks and thinking about what he would do to that weasel if he wasn't holding his contract in his greasy, rotting hands.

Nothing really surprised him… Until the little vault freak wandered in.

In hindsight he should have known something was up when the usual echoes of rasped voices quieted as they always did when a new smoothskin came. He didn't pay it any mind, they wouldn't be talking with him unless he was dragging them out by their still attached hair. Whoever they were they would probably leave screaming and heaving like all the others. But after a while few ghouls passing through the bar had the smoothskin on the tips of their tongue, the stranger must have done something to be so interesting. It didn't matter though… it didn't matter.

Eventually the smoothskin found his way to the Ninth Circle, he was painfully easy to spot, but not exactly what Charon had expected. He'd caught him out of the corner of his eye, following everyone else's gaze. How the hell did that kid ever survive the wastes?

Even though he was surrounded by corpse the boy was probably the thinnest in the room, making him appear lanky with his height. Under his trader's hat waves of brown hair reached almost to his shoulders and a long merc's tunic brushed against his high boots when he walked. He looked like someone from the sixteenth century who had gotten his ass lost. Thick goggles were strapped to his face, it took Charon a second to realize he was staring right back at him and he quickly turned away. It was rare for him to get taken off guard like that, being a bouncer was softening him up.

Still he watched, discretely as he could. The boy's demeanor was different then the usual smoothskin… or anyone else in the wastes. What would you call it? … Cheerful. Yeah, he hadn't seen someone cheerful for quiet some time. He seemed more like someone strolling through the park rather then a living tomb, smiling and waving at those he passed. At least that's what he thought he was doing, again he realized that those goggles had hidden the fact that he was returning his gaze yet again. Damn, how was he able to do that?

Well their little staring contest had apparently caught the boys attention, he could feel (or at least thought he felt) his eyes on him while he wandered aimlessly around the crumbling halls. It made him uneasy but he didn't seem the least bit dangerous so he tried his best to ignore him.

That would have worked out just fine and everything would have gone back to normal. Now that he thought back on it there was no chance for anything normal when it came to him.

The next day saw to that. As soon as the kid trotted in he made a bee line for Charon. It was obvious by his step that he had FAR too much energy for the morning hours. With an ever so slight bounce he stopped in front of him and pulled those goggles up to perch them on the bill of his hat.

The biggest, bluest eyes he'd ever seen stared up at him, if it wasn't for the thin beard that trimmed the edge of his face he would have sworn he was still pubescent. A small smile perked his mustache. No one that innocent that would survive a month in DC.

"Hello!"

Oh jeez… innocent and far too cheerful for this day and age. He could feel a headache creeping on.

"I'm Walter, what's your name?"

"Talk to Ahzrukhal."

"You're tall."

Didn't he hear him the first time? "Talk to Ahzrukhal."

"Are you a mercenary?"

"Talk. To. Ahzrukhal."

His voice was as harsh as he could make it, which was something to a smoothskin since it already sounded something like a cat in a meat grinder, but he didn't even blink… in fact he didn't seem to hear anything at all.

"You seem angry."

You think?

"It must be frustrating standing over here all day. Do you get lonely?"

Maybe if he ignored him he'd go away.

After a string of senseless question after question the boy eventually ran out of things to ask. This, however, didn't mean he was about to leave. Perched at a foots length away he stood a head shorter then Charon, staring up at him, just staring. He tried to watch the patrons, Ahzrukhal, the wall, anything but the boy. He could stand there forever if he liked, he wasn't about to give in.

And that was his intention, one minute turned into two.

Then five.

Then ten.

"Talk to Ahzrukhal!"

An odd twitch perked at the edge of his lips, was that a smirk? Turning on his heal he faced away from him for the first time in what seemed like forever, hiding whatever expression he held. "Alright." Was all he said before he headed off to, sure enough, the bar with Ahzrukhal.

Yep, there was that headache.

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The kid wasn't there the next day, obviously he had better thing to do then hang around a bar and stare at him, thank god, but he did come back. Every few days or so he'd pop in, usually looking a little worse for the wear, and plop himself down at a table, never to close but always in eyesight of Charon. He'd yank out the same worn notebook, pull his goggles down over those large eyes and refuse to move for some time. Never once did he order a drink, passively cementing the fact that he was there only to watch Charon, or annoy him would probably be a better choice of words... and he succeeded. He'd asked Ahzrukhal why he didn't kick the kid out but apparently his loitering was attracting customers so there was nothing he could do.

Whatever he was doing there he attracted ghouls like mouths to a light bulb. Every few minuets one or more perched them selves at his table to chat… or whatever they did, for hours some times. He saw the boy's lips moving but his goggled eyes were always on his notebook, it was only the time he caught them sneaking looks back at him did they ever leave.

Charon put up with it for some time, after all, he wasn't all that sure what got him so stirred up about some stupid kid in the first place. But day by day his curiosity got to him. What the hell were they talking about that was so damn interesting?

When he was certain Ahzrukhal was busy with a customer (the last thing he needed was his bitching) he grabbed the arm of a ghoul who has leaving the kid's little party, it turned out to be Winthrop. He would have assumed he'd at least have enough sense not to get in with this.

"H-Hey Charon…" he seemed rather uncomfortable, probably because of the grip he had on him, he was already intimidating just standing still. "Something wrong?"

"What were you doing with the smoothskin?"

He blinked, surprised. "Walter? Just… talken'… He likes to talk to the ghouls around here."

"About what?" what the hell made him so damn popular?

"A lot of things…Sometimes about what it's like… you know, to be like us. But most of the time we talk about stuff before the war. He's writing a book or something."

"And…?" there was something else, his eyes wouldn't be shifting like that if there wasn't.

Whatever it was he was having trouble finding the words. "It's the way he looks at you… like he can see your words. He takes whatever story we give him like its… food to him or something."

Of course Charon didn't understand, that was complete gibberish. "'See your words?'"

Winthrop shrugged when he let him go. "I don't know how to explain it, but no one ever looked at me like that even when I had skin. You'll have to talk him yourself I guess."

"No thanks…" Glancing over he caught those eyes behind their goggles, again that little smug smirk hinted at the edge of his cheerful smile before he gave a wave.

No, the last thing he wanted was to get anywhere close to figuring out what was going on in that head of his.

But it looked like he wasn't going to have a choice in the matter.

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He knew something was up, he knew it, a low growl vibrated in the back of his throat at the thought. It was the same sense of foreboding he felt when the boy first came, like something in his world was about to go terribly terribly wrong.

It was the way the kid walked in, there was an odd spring in each long step he took. And it was the fact that he didn't look at him when he passed, like he had something so important to do, or something he thought was important... which couldn't mean anything good.

He stopped right in front of the bar with a bounce of his heals, mere seconds after he opened his mouth an expression came over Ahzrukhal's face that, if Charon were a lesser ghoul, would have sent him laughing to the floor. Whatever it was he said, soon the weasel's eyes were on him, then back to the boy, god the caps he would have given the know what the kid had done. After a few minuets of his foul mouth opening and closing, for once without any smug venom to spew, and a muffled show of furious defeat in the way his fingers dug into the bar Ahzrukhal managed a forced smile and nodded, what was done was done.

You didn't have to be a genius to know what was going on, and when the kid strutted over it only confirmed the churning in the pit of his stomach. He stopped in front of him, setting off déjà vu of their first uncomfortable meeting, and again he pulled up his thick goggles… but there was something different. The big blue eyes from before were slanted, smug slits and a smirk showed off white teeth that didn't come from anywhere in the wastes he knew of. It was like those stupid goggles let him change masks, he had to fight a shudder that ran down his exposed spine. It was unsettling, he was used being able to tell who was an enemy and who wasn't, he could read something that kept changing.

"So, what's a handsome ghoul like yourself doing all alone and unemployed?"

What the hell?

"… You bought my contract…?" it didn't sound like a question and it really wasn't. He wanted to ask 'Did you just hit on me?' but he didn't want to hear the answer.

"Bought, blackmailed, confiscated, however you want to say it.

That raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Casually he waved his hand in the air, Charon spotted an odd device on his wrist, it was glowing. Maybe this kid wasn't from the Wastes after all.

"That's not important right now. What is important is that I am in need of a research assistant and you are in need of a job. I thought we might be able to help each other out."

He knew he'd regret asking this, probably for the rest of his long… long life, but by the lingering silence he could tell things weren't going to move along until he did. "…And… what are you researching exactly?"

"Glad you asked!" he started up almost before Charon had a chance to finish. The gadget on his hand gave him the pleasure of a light show with each of his dramatic gestures. "I am a writer, and explorer, a modern day Bard if you will. I am chronicling the tragically beautiful world in which we live." He backed away when the kid suddenly pointed in his face. "That's where you come in my friend." Since when were they friends? "My explorations take me into some… less then pleasant places and I need a strapping gentleman like yourself to defend my honor and body."

God the boy was beaming like a headlight, he really had his work cut out for him, a little hyperactive Charles Dickens actually intent on getting himself killed.

"So what do you say, want to get out of this shady hole and go on an adventure?"

"You are my employer, it dose not matter where you go, I will fallow."

The kid pretended to pout, but only for a second. "Such an enthusiastic monotone you have. Well then, it's a deal. I've never had an… employee before… what exactly is it that you do?"

"What you tell me to."

He blinked, as if what he said wasn't simple enough. "Really? I'm not used to giving orders." When he crossed his arms his character changed again, everything he did was acting for some play in his head. "Can you help me with that?"

"Yes, stop asking and start ordering." This was going to get on his nerves real quick.

But the kid found it funny, he chuckled as he looked up to him. "Oky~ then! I have to get to Megaton before nightfall so if you're going to join me, we'd better get going. Is there anything you need to finish off before we begin our little journey together?"

"Just one."

He backed away as Charon walked by, but then followed him to the bar like an excited pup. It was true, the kid had managed to prove him wrong by surviving this long in the hell ironically outside of underworld, but he still acted far too green. In the back of his mind he wondered if the boy had ever turned that rifle strapped to his back towards anything more intelligent then a mole rat. Well now he was about to learn a good lesson.

"Charon." Ahzrukhal seemed to still be reeling over whatever the kid had against him, slumped pathetically over his own bar. Charon would have to find out what it was some day, get himself a rare laugh… shame he would never be able to use it against the bastard himself. "Come to say goodbye, have you?"

"Yes."

The sound of his shotgun echoing off walls was one of the few comforting things he'd had in a long time, an old friend saying hello. The following splattered bits of skull and brains that littered the bar like an odd, red snow that clung to the bottles. Someone would have to clean up this mess later, he allowed himself a small smile when he knew it wouldn't be him.

Before he checked to see if he'd traumatized the kid, which wouldn't exactly be a bad thing, a strange… disturbing noise rose up behind him.

The boy was laughing, arms crossed, head back, laughing at the scene. The slanted sky blue slits beamed brightly at him when he spoke.

"Lovely." he'd seen something he liked. "The tainted blood of a corruption spread all over that which has slaved his life to but could not bring with him. You're a master of symbolism, my friend." He pet his shoulder as he passed by.

It took Charon a second or two to realize he was staring… in shock, yeah, that was it, shock.

"You coming, Charon?"

They were silent against the frantic buzzing of the onlookers. The kid walked with his arms held behind his back, apathetic to the scene. Charon sneered, he was almost hauntingly at ease, this was not the same boy who first walked up to him.

"Do you enjoy wearing a mask like that?"

He laughed again, was everything a joke now? "Do you?"

What?

But he continued. "As much as I'd like to be an impartial observer, sometimes you have to get close to people to learn." The kid smiled up at him. "Why, are you wondering what I'm really like? I know I'm wondering what's under that scary frown of yours."

Charon said nothing.

"Hm, maybe one day we'll both find out."

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Thanks for reading, next few chapters may be shorter or longer.


	2. Tenpenny Tower Part 1

Wasteland Watcher

Tenpenny Tower

Part 1

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This took a while because of school and the file getting corrupted, also it ended up being a lot longer then I thought it would because, honestly, this is one of my favorite quests in the whole game and I want to just beat character development out of it till its in a coma. So this and the next chapter will be pretty long, a fare warning. This isn't just a crack fic, it's a real story, for good or bad so plot development is inescapable. I know I wouldn't read this is I wasn't… me.

So, now that you've been fairly warned, enjoy.

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It had only been a week since he was snatch up by, what was his name again? Walter? He didn't really care. But that week had taken more out of him this all of his former employers combined.

It wasn't the combat, he was used facing down raiders and rabid wildlife, if anything it was a good way to get out all that pent up anger he had standing in that damned bar for the last few years. At least that made sense to him.

Charon would climb hills for his explorers, swim radioactive rivers, trek the metro subways and face down everything from mercs to supper mutants. But this?

The kid was downright ridiculous.

They weren't savaging, they weren't out to kill, not to steal, not to raid, nothing. They were out wandering the wastes for what he called "Knowledge!" That meant digging through abandoned houses, searching every inch of buildings, facing down ancient guard droids and putting whatever he happen to be doing at the time if, god forbid, something they hadn't discovered yet showed up on that weird arm band. He sure as hell didn't care if a mob or raiders or land mines were in the way. The kid was an idiot, more then a few times he had to be pulled out of a trash can or safe he'd got stuck in, or push some button just to see what it did and blowing something up in the distance.

And why?

For "Knowledge."

How the hell has digging in some ancient, mutant infest museum going to help anyone?

If his insane extent of exploring wasn't enough, when they were in cities the stupid kid couldn't keep his mouth shut. This was the wastes, everyone had their own problems, and Walter wanted to dig them all up. He wasn't sure who frustrated him more, the people who couldn't seem to do anything for themselves, or the kid who volunteered so eagerly. It would almost be noble, almost, but they ended up taking everything from rescue missions to contract killings. "We're here to learn not to judge." He would say, "After all, if we don't help the story along, we'll never get to see the ending."

And he'd pull out that beat up notebook and scribble it all down like he was learning the contents of creation itself.

He was beginning to hate that stupid thing.

So they were off on another one of his harebrained quests that would take them half way across the wastes and back. He growled in the back of his throat, attempting to burn holes in the back of the boy's head with just his stare.

He came to a sudden halt, Charon nearly tripped over him.

"What was that?"

"Hm?"

The kid turned around, when he looked up he noticed he wasn't wearing those goggles, he hadn't worn them around him for a while, even if he did in town or when shooting at something. In the back of his mind he wondered if it meant anything.

"You grumble to yourself a lot."

Hm, he hadn't noticed he'd been doing it… and neither had any of his prior employers… the kid was probably just painfully perceptive of everything.

He decided not to respond.

"I bet you never got any good conversations going with your old companions." He put his hands behind his head and walked backwards, keeping an eye on Charon. "That must have been lonely."

That wasn't really a question, he didn't have to answer him.

"You don't have to talk to yourself. You can talk to me instead."

That brought his eyes from scanning to the wastes and back to the boy's pale face. He smiled at him, it seemed friendly, but the kid could seem to be a lot of things, he wasn't about to trust him any more then all the others who held his contract.

"Just consider it." he said as he spun back around and stopped again. This time Charon actually ran into him but the kid didn't seem to care. That was odd, usually he'd make some kind of snarky sexual comment whenever they happen to stumble over each other, but right now he was distracted. Charon had to fallow his gaze and finally noticed the loaming tower on the horizon.

"What's that?"

Before he could answer he took off in a run, he faintly caught a "Lets find out!" cheer carried along by the wind.

And the nightmare begins again.

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The tower seemed all the more intimidating close up. The sun was behind, casting its shadow over them, Charon had never felt so threatened by a building in his life. Endless patched windows stared down like glass eyes and the wind higher up howled when it passed through the broken ones, making it groan and howl like a beast. In all it just seem to make the kid more excited, he had an affinity for getting himself into deeper trouble. Charon followed silently until they were within firing range.

"This place might be dangerous."

As eccentric as he was, the kid at least listened to his raspy words of caution when he spoke. "mHYou think? They have all those walls, surly they wouldn't care about a few random wastelanders w-"

The whistle of a bullet whizzed past their ears and stuck hard in a mailbox behind them.

Immediately they both ducked behind the ruins of an old house, good listener with good reflexes, maybe the kid will survive out here after all.

"A sniper?"

Charon grunted in agreement

"What did we do to piss them off?" he actually sounded offended, like he hadn't met hundreds of people who wanted to kill him for the fun of it already.

Before he could comment that there was no reason to find out, his charge was irritating but he couldn't rightly let him run off to his death, there came some shouting. It rolled in from the walls of the tower and didn't sound happy.

The kid heard it too because he began slinking along the ruins, goggles pulled down over his eyes and one hand on the rifle around his back. That was another thing he had to give him, the boy knew his covert ops, it he didn't want to be seen he wouldn't, it was good to see him use it for something besides eavesdropping.

"Hey, looks like someone else is having trouble too."

Well scratch that.

Following his gaze he spotted what was so interesting. Someone was at the gates of whatever building it was, pounding on them and shouting at the top of his raspy lungs. Dents were appearing but the doors refused to budge, all he got was some smug, cracked voice spewing insults form the tiny voice box near the entrance. They were still rather far off but faintly they could make out a few words.

"Damn it! We've got the caps, let us in!

"Look! No Zombies, no way, no how!"

"Just you wait! You'll get yours! All of you!"

The metal clang of an armored foot hitting the door was the last bit exchanged between the two before the stranger stormed off. They could hear his growls and mumbles from their hiding place. Whatever battle it was it was lost now.

And of course the kid immediately began scampering after the looser. Charon barely managed to snag him by the color of his tunic.

"What!?" he whined, thrashing like a child. "There's a story behind this! What sounds like a good one!"

"I don't believe it would be wise to talk to him in such a state." The last thing he needed was the kid getting his head shot off by someone in a bad mood.

"No fair." But he brightened quickly, "Well then, I'll have to get my story from the opposite side." Somehow he managed to wriggle his way free and take off, apparently he'd forgotten all about the sniper. Charon followed, thankful he didn't hear the familiar sounds of bullets burring themselves in the dirt. He'd have to be quicker on his feet to keep this idiot safe.

Walter came to a halt in front of the intercom "Excuse me?" he said in one of his voices, the kind one that said "I'm here to trade and help, please let me in." Usually it got them where they needed to go, smoothskins hadn't outgrown their own stupidity yet.

"Look! I said no zombies! Now get your rotting ass off the property!"

There was a slight twitch, barely visible under his goggles, Charon knew what it meant, he was mad. Thankfully the kid could take a few insults before he went completely off his nut.

"No zombies here sir." He responded with just the slightest crack in his voice.

"Oh... sorry, I thought you were... someone else." The mechanical voice behind the mike cleared his throat. "State your business in Tenpenny Tower."

The kid gave him a look over his shoulder; they'd herd of this place on that blowhard's radio station he always had blaring from that thing on his arm. Something about ghouls and caps, he didn't pay much attention, but it had gotten the boy riled up at the time.

"I have a business proposition with Tenpenny." He lied, the kid was good at that.

"What? I wasn't told about anything."

"That's because men like us don't have time to chat with the help, now let me in before Tenpenny has to find a new rent-a-cop, I'm sure there's plenty out here in the wastes who would be happy to do the job without the attitude."

Yep, there was his "I know far more then you, you sniveling idiot" voice, which of course he never did. They were lucky they hadn't been shot at yet.

"R-right, yes sir… Opening doors."

Hm, even got a sir out of him.

The inside of Tenpenny tower reminded him of the outside, in the fact that both seemed to be the product of someone's deep denial that time had stopped at 2077. The walls were made to look like they were able to protect the interior, which was made to look like it hadn't suffered years of decay. Such denial, or ignorance, perhaps, felt like it was floating in the air around them, and to an extent it might have been, as it was radiating off the residence like a foul smell.

Fortunately he didn't have time to savor the bad taste that was building in his mouth because as soon as he had both his feet in the door, a man behind the desk in armor shot to his feet and reached for his gun.

"I said no zombies!" the barrel looking in the face had less ferocity to it then the look in the shooter's eyes. "Take this message back to Phillips!"

"Hey, hey HEY!" Before Charon to reach back for his shock gun the kid jumped in front of him. In the back of his mind he made a note to complain about him insisting on stepping in front of bullets. "What in the hell do you think you're doing? He's with me!"

The shocked him long enough to lower the gun. "With you?"

"Right! He's my… my servant! All the holes in him belong to me and I don't want you putting in any more so drop you overcompensation with a trigger and calm down."

Well that could have been worded better. Charon felt his eye twitch when he realized it might have been intentional. By this time they had gained the attention of every well dressed resident and over dressed guard.

"Things seem tense here, what's with all the shouting outside?" he leaned over the front desk like nothing had happened.

"What's it to you, kid?"

"If he'd got a ghoul working for him maybe he knows how to deal with the mongrels." One of the watchers called out.

"Yes, look at all that dirt caked on him Gustavo!, he probably wanders in sewers all the time."

"Alright, calm down." By the circles under his eyes, Charon wasn't sure if the guard had a harder time with the ghouls outside or the airheads inside.

"Looks like you could use some help." The smirk on his face was growing, he smelled an opportunity.

By the way this Gustavo character was glaring at them from the corner of his eye it was obvious he wasn't enjoying where this was going, but didn't really have a choice.

"You know how to take care of Ghouls kid?"

"With my gun tied behind my back."

While the kid was chatting up the "Rent-a-cop" Charon couldn't help but feel the holes all the eyes were burning into his back. Every resident on the floor was staring at him like he'd just shot someone, which he hadn't, not yet. Usually he just blocked it out, he'd been a ghoul for a long time and was more then used to the looks, but these people, they seemed dangerous. It wasn't that he couldn't take them, these house cats probably never held a weapon in their life, but he was sure as hell he didn't want to protect Walter from an entire army of hired help.

"Its about time Gustavo got someone to take care of those zombies." He could hear the residents chatting behind him, doubting they cared he was there… or wanted him to hear. Keep it up; they weren't going to get a rise out of him.

"Certainly, if I have to hear their shouting outside the gates just one more day… It sounds like a cat on a cheese grater, and I swear I can smell them even on the upper floors."

"Oh I know! I wish they would just rot away somewhere! You know they eat their babies, that's why you never see any young ones-"

The sound of a shot gun instantly silenced the room.

His shot gun.

But his hands hadn't moved.

Like everyone else his gaze turned behind him to see the kid stepping away.

"Sorry about that." His smile beamed, but it was shallow and something about it made him hold back a shudder. "Sometimes I just don't know what to do with him." The boy gave him a swat on the arm, not too hard. Of course no one had seen who pulled the trigger, it was easy to frame him, but what the hell was going through his head? "But you know how ghouls can be. It would probably be best to keep quiet around him though. Don't want to make him mad, do we?"

Slow, hesitant nods were shared all around. So that was his plan.

"Good, now, if you excuse me. My rifle can solve any problems here, I'll be back when I have the situation under control. Come Charon."

The kid walked out like he was about to lead an army out on the field, he was more then happy to follow if I meant he would get out of there.

Still, he'd remember the looks on their fat faces for a good long time.

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"What the HELL!"

Once they were outside the kid tore off his goggles, tossed his hat to the ground and his heavy step took to a downright stomp. Charon made a grab for the articles before he stepped on them.

"Who talks like that! Ignorance is one thing but THAT?! That was downright hateful. They eat their babies? Ghouls can't even have babies! These are people they're talking about and they're treating them like cockroaches!" The shout fest went on for quiet some time, in fact until they got to the subway, Charon had actually blocked it out after a while.

When the reached the chain gate he paused his step, Charon nearly toppled over him on the stairs. What was wrong now?

"Sorry…"

Hm? For blowing up back there? For making that comment about… holes? Running off like an idiot in the first place?

"Sorry for what?"

"For not saying anything to them." He gave a small huff as he crossed his arms, "They were asses, speaking like that in front of you. I should have defended you but…"

Charon shrugged, partly because he didn't care, partly because he didn't like people feeling sorry for him and because…. "You needed to get the story."

"Yeah but… I'm not used to having someone else around whose-"

Charon stopped him when he set the familiar had down on his chestnut hair, goggles attached of course. "You know the other half of your story is waiting for you down in those sewers, right?"

The boy blinked. "But-"

He didn't want to have to say it, "Better hurry." He didn't want to say he didn't want them to get close.

"Alright…" he didn't seem to understand but he pulled on those goggles, turned on the light on that weird thing on his wrist and headed in.

He could have said what was on his mind, he could have told him to keep his concern to himself, he was the employer and Charon was just his employee but… well none of his former employers had worried about him enough to have this problem, mostly just concerned their machine gun with legs might die of blood loss or something of the like. So, since the little weirdo showed concern for him he returned the favor and didn't hurt his feelings.

That was it.

Nothing else…

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Why didn't those assholes get pissed when u dragged Char in? That would have been fun.

Next Chapter, Roy Phillips vs. Charon, I ain't lyin'


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